


Stitched

by wasatch_97



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: A little angst but mostly fluff, Anxiety, Backstory, Canon Compliant, Han Jisung | Han is a Sweetheart, I'm bad at tagging forgive me lol, Lee Minho | Lee Know is a Sweetheart, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Sad Han Jisung | Han, Sad Lee Minho | Lee Know, Shyness, based on that selca minsung posted a few hours ago, from chan's perspective but abt minsung, just stressed babies, lmaoooo idek i just saw it and had to write, not super descriptive, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22399447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasatch_97/pseuds/wasatch_97
Summary: Producing, performing, singing, rapping, dancing, winning—It's all a cycle, Chan knows. It’s rewarding but hard. Such a hard fucking life.He’s built Stray Kids from the ground up and loves everything they’ve created together as a group, but the repercussions of the type of life they’re living are always there in the backs of their minds. Always. The pressure is exhausting, spine-breaking, but all of them love what they do - they're addicts to the thrumming of bass and the drag of shoes across polished floors.Chan can’t remember a time when he wasn’t bending to the needs of others. It’s painful to want to be selfish but sometimes he wishes everything would be still so he could have a moment of serenity to breathe. There’s so much floating around in his head that sometimes he can’t piece together any coherent thoughts and struggles to be a successful leader and friend.But there’s moments, every once in a while, where Chan can take a breath, when they can all take a breath. And it’s enough. Enough for now.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 14
Kudos: 210





	Stitched

Producing, performing, singing, rapping, dancing, winning— 

It's all a cycle, Chan knows. It’s rewarding but hard. Such a hard fucking life. 

He’s built Stray Kids from the ground up and loves everything they’ve created together as a group, but the repercussions of the type of life they’re living are always there in the backs of their minds. Always. The pressure is exhausting, spine-breaking, but all of them love what they do - they’re addicts to the thrumming of bass and the drag of shoes across polished floors. 

Chan can’t remember a time when he wasn’t bending to the needs of others. It’s painful to want to be selfish but sometimes he wishes everything would be still so he could have a moment of serenity to breathe. There’s so much floating around in his head that sometimes he can’t piece together any coherent thoughts and struggles to be a successful leader and friend. 

But there’s moments, every once in a while, where Chan can take a breath, when they can all take a breath. And it’s enough. Enough for now. 

The others have all fallen asleep, Chan notes with a smile when he looks around the living room, boys sprawled haphazardly across the couch and the floor. The credits to a movie that had had the half-awake boys enraptured are rolling on the tv and Chan’s phone is almost dead. He stands with a small groan, wandering towards the bedrooms when he notices that a light is on in Jisung and Jeongin’s. Through the partially opened door he sees that Minho is pestering Jisung, the younger boy curled up in his blankets with his laptop next to him. 

Jisung had been in his room for most of the day, hiding out from the world to spend too long pouring over a notebook of half-filled verses and several files of unfinished beats. It’s not healthy to be so heavily focused and trapped alone but Chan can’t take the chance at solitude away from Jisung, not when he deserves rest and time to do what he wants. 

“A picture for Stay,” Minho pleads, pulling at the edge of Jisung’s blanket. “C’mon, for your favorite hyung.” 

“Hyung,” Jisung’s taken to whining, trying to weasel his way out. But Chan knows it’s a defense, and so does Minho. 

“Hannie-ah,” Minho says, a smile in his voice, “one picture, I promise.” 

Minho has always had the magic touch when it comes to Jisung. Jisung is easy to love and loves so easily but Minho sticks out, not just by loving Jisung just as much as Jisung loves him, but because he knows Jisung like the back of his hand. Minho has a knack for knowing what exactly triggers Jisung and what words will make him laugh. Chan wishes he had that gift - the ability to generate joy and pick up on warning signals, but he is clumsy with emotions himself. 

“Fine,” Jisung breathes, crawling out from under the blankets, a squirrel headband instantly plopped on his head by a grinning Minho, giraffe horns in his own hair. “You owe me,” Jisung grumbles as Minho pulls him in close, raising his phone. Jisung gets an elbow to the side and rolls his eyes before plastering a smile onto his face. 

It’s fake, too fake and Minho sees it too. 

“Sungie,” he says, lowering the phone and tilting himself towards the blond, “Sungie-ah, I miss your smile.” 

Chan takes a shallow breath - they all miss it. 

Jisung brings a shaky hand up to the headband and slides it off, setting it down on the desk chair. Minho is watching him closely, slipping his phone into his back pocket. “What do you want me to say, hyung?” 

His words are sharp but Minho seems to pay no mind. “I want you to talk to me. Please.” Minho’s eyes are big, his tone almost turning frantic with weeks of repressed thoughts. “I - Sungie - you’re so far away, I’m trying to reach you but it’s like no matter how fast I run you keep getting further and further away!” Minho’s voice turns choked and he rubs at his eyes with his sleeves. Minho has always hated crying because he hates having that chance at being shown as vulnerable. “I should be the one protecting you, I’m your hyung, but Sungie, I need you. My legs are so tired but what can I do - what can I do but keep trying to get to you?” Minho’s bottom lip is quivering, the boy frantically trying to hold in his tears. “It’s all I know, I’ve always been running to keep up with you.” 

“Hannie-ah,” Minho’s voice is frail, strung out, near breaking. “Jisung, tell me where you are, I’ll find you, please, you’ve been gone for so long and _I need you_.” Chan’s heart breaks at the tone of Minho’s voice, the normally composed and teasing hyung looking so lost as he places his heart and soul in the hands of another equally fragile boy. 

When Chan’s eyes drift to Jisung his chest tightens upon seeing that he’s shaking, hand trembling as he raises it. Jisung’s fingertips brush Minho’s cheek, nails dragging through the tears pooling on his skin. “Hyung, don’t cry, it’s not a good look for you.” 

Minho half-laughs, sniffling. “I know.” 

Jisung smiles fleetingly, tears in his own eyes. “Hyung, I’m right here.” He takes Minho’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “I’m always gonna be here with you. Even if it feels like I’m not.” 

Minho nods shakily, and Chan can see that he’s squeezing Jisung’s hand so hard his knuckles are white. “This is the opposite, I shouldn’t be freaking out—” 

“So I should be?” One of Jisung’s eyebrows is raised. 

Minho’s eyes widen, “No, Sungie, fuck no - I just, I feel like I’m burdening you.” 

“I get it,” Jisung says, “it’s how I feel all the time with the others...and you.” 

Minho’s face is pale, “Jisungie-ah, you could never be a burden to any of us. We all love you so much. Don’t think that’s not true.” 

Jisung hums, a tinge of unease in his tone. “I know.” 

Minho’s eyes lose focus, “Okay.” 

“Hyung?” Jisung asks, touching his cheek worriedly. Minho grabs Jisung’s wrist, stumbling backwards. Jisung’s eyes are wide as Minho drops to the floor, hiding his face in his hands and bringing his knees to his chest. Chan blinks, heart hurting. Of all the things he could have guessed happening tonight he wouldn’t have guessed Minho having a breakdown. He hates himself for never considering that possibility, not having known that Minho is in this much pain. He should have - it is his job to make sure all of the boys are okay. 

“Hyungie,” Jisung whispers, kneeling in front of Minho. “Please talk to me? Please? It’s just me, Han. Your Hannie, yeah?” 

Minho’s shoulders shake - the only sign that he’s crying. He’s perfected silent crying over the years Chan has known him, and sometimes Chan wishes he could just scream it all out. 

Chan can see how Jisung’s heart turns to dust as he reaches out to touch Minho and then pulls away, probably remembering that he himself doesn’t like to be touched when he’s panicking. Chan pushes a hand through his hair - they don’t deserve this. 

Jisung takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, and then talks. 

Jisung’s good at telling stories. He’s good at being funny, he’s good at capturing attention. But in this moment Chan doesn't see that Jisung - he sees a boy he hasn't laid eyes on in a long time - the boy who wrote _I See_ , the song a wide-eyed, hope-filled boy who knew too much and wanted the most had written years ago. Chan can’t help but listen. 

“I’ve always wanted to be good,” Jisung whispers, “I’ve always wanted to prove that I’m great at what I do. I thought I was everything before I started training, I was the only one in my school that could write lyrics and sing and rap. That was the first time I thought I was invincible.” 

“When I came back to Korea and joined this company I felt like nothing. I had no talent compared to all of these people around me, the other trainees were amazing dancers and singers and seemed to know what they were doing. I was just that kid in the corner writing lyrics on the backs of my hands in vocal lessons when I couldn’t have paper. I never wanted to show that I was weak so I didn’t. I put up walls, played myself as a different person.” 

“Then Chan-hyung found me, told me he saw some of my work and that he was starting a rap trio. He said he wanted me on his team. I accepted, of course, but I couldn’t help but think ‘Why me?’ Why me out of all of the trainees? Why would a legend like hyung choose a nobody with a shitty attitude and words scribbled up and down his arms that had never been turned into music? But he did, and we made music. We got better over time and I got to know both Chan-hyung and Changbin-hyung well. It was always a democracy between us; I never thought it would be like that, given I was the youngest and so inexperienced. But we never did anything without the other two’s approval. I loved it all, being able to make music that got listened to, perform, have friends, be looked up to. I got cocky, I learned that it was fun to show off, that it felt good to be the best. That was the second time I felt invincible.” 

“When Stray Kids was announced I was so happy. I was going to debut with my hyungs, make more memories and more music, change the world. But that show cut me down, it cut all of us down. That was the first time that I learned that the entertainment business doesn’t give a shit about music. We’re all just pawns made of money.” 

“The ‘I Am’ series was amazing, each song we wrote was great in my eyes, I was proud to be on every credit list. It felt like a dream, all of it. I had some amount of fame, I had my music, I had fans, I had a family. In the ‘Cle’ albums I started to realize that it hurts, all of it. There was so much euphoria in the first year that I was numb, but now I was bleeding out over the soundboard. I saw comments degrading and hating on us, on me, and it scared me so badly. I wondered how I never saw this before - I started wondering as I passed by crowds outside venues which of these people hated me. Everything started caving in, I always felt trapped, with nowhere to hide, not a moment to take a breath by myself. When I performed all I could see were blank faces in the crowd, empty faces that haunted me at night. I wondered why I chose to live this life. I wondered how I ever thought that I was invincible.” 

Jisung rests his head in his hands, voice quiet. “I wonder about all of that every day when I look in the mirror. Every time I pass through a crowd, every moment when I can’t sleep and stare up at the ceiling in the dark. I wish to god I could go back in time and tell that boy with lyrics on his hands to run, to get out.” 

Chan covers his mouth with his hand, eyes burning as tears roll down his cheeks. 

“But I wouldn’t change it,” Jisung whispers. “The fame, the pressure - it’s breaking me. But I don’t think there was ever another life meant for me. And I’m so lucky to have my brothers with me.” 

Minho uncurls just slightly to snake a hand out, finding Jisung’s and tangling their fingers together. His giraffe horns are still perched on his head, slipping down slightly, a tinge of humor in the bleak room. “Y’know, I never thought we would ever end up this close,” Jisung says when Minho makes no move to speak. “You came off icy as a trainee, I know now that it was because you were shy, but it was intimidating. Something I never told you was sometimes after meetings with Chan-hyung and Changbin-hyung I would walk past the dance studios and stop to watch for a while if your class was in session.” Jisung drags his hoodie sleeve across his face, laughing softly. “Hyung, you had me even then. Before we knew more than each other’s names.” 

Minho giggles quietly, head raising. His face is puffy and his eyes, along with his nose, are tinged red, but Jisung’s whole being lights up upon seeing him. “Sungie, I knew you watched. Some of the guys were fans of 3RACHA and saw you lurking around a couple of times.” 

Jisung blushes red, squeezing Minho’s hand hard. “Hey! You never told me!” 

Minho tries to hide a smile but can’t when Jisung matches it. “I didn’t do much other than go to classes when I was a trainee but I knew you were popular. I really only started listening to your stuff when I was set to debut with Stray Kids.” 

“Yah, so we both knew each other before we actually properly introduced ourselves?” Jisung asks, laughing when Minho nods. “I have to ask, then, what did you think of me?” 

Minho scoots closer to Jisung, accepting skinship again. “At first I thought you were so confident, of course talented. I was so wrapped up in what was happening with me on the show that I hardly had time to really learn to know you. But I knew I wanted you in my life for as long as possible when I had to rap that time and you and Changbin-ah saved my ass. After that and when I came back I noticed that you actually weren’t always outgoing, that you were sweet and cheerful and had the biggest heart of any trainee I had met here. I realized I didn’t just care about being an idol, no. I wanted to have the traits that that one trainee who could move mountains with a lyric and light up a room with a smile had.” 

“Hyung,” Jisung whispers, eyes wide. Minho gives him a shy half-smile, curling closer towards him, pressing up against his chest and letting Jisung wrap his arms around him. 

“There was no question in my mind that I would love you,” Minho says, resting his head against Jisung’s shoulder. “No question that I would love you more than any of the others.” 

Jisung’s cheeks are tinged pink as he plays with Minho’s fingers. “I didn’t know how to feel for a while, but then your personality really started showing and I was fucked for ever thinking there was any way I couldn’t love you with my whole heart.” 

Minho laughs quietly, closing his eyes. “I love you, Sung. All of you. The insanely talented bits, the silly bits, the intelligent bits, the loving bits, the scared bits, and the bits of yourself that scare you.” 

Jisung smiles, hiding his face in Minho’s shoulder. “I love you too. Especially the parts of you that you find hard to love.” 

Chan realizes with a start that there are still tears on his cheeks and a dopey grin on his face, but he doesn’t care, not when Minho and Jisung are holding each other again, not when his brothers are smiling. It’s enough - there’s always more of the weight of the world to land on them but this is just enough to bring them back to life. 

Broken boys, stitched back together with sweet memories and love for each other. 

It’s enough.


End file.
